Vorhi Alestrani was, among other things, a god-damned idiot. And right now, he was arguably the most clothed person on the entire ship. Several other members of the Salai Kasi were present, But Vorhi was going into the talent portion. Ten, twenty years ago, this would've been as simple as flexing his shirt off and putting on some nice cologne. But Vorhi was a one-armed monk i his late forties. He was still in great shape, Teras Kasi did a body good after all--but to be sensual, on stage? Vorhi had to play it up. It was all about the style, the pinache. The
PRESENTATION.
Vorhi's outfit looked like a mummy from some odd holodrama, the wraps around entire body dyed black and green, giving an impression of his old "obsidian knight" colors. Over the wrappings was a simple black robe with wide sleeves. The only skin he was showing as around the mouth-- which was good because this drink was a tricky one, even with a straw. "Alright," he said after a quick slurp from his turbo-gulp, "Just double-check the drops during the intermission. Don't need another situation like in the second 'dress' rehearsal where I get some the the rigging tied to my--"
"Cocktails, Miss?" The shirtless waiter said as he offered a drink tray towards a woman with glasses in a surprising casual outfit for the event. Simple letheris pants, a tank top that says "Ghosts kick sheb and forget names" and a nice satiny jacket. Ganna the
"Holoworm" was here, sipping a drink. It had been over a decade since the collapse of the Templars and the start of the Obsidian Order. Ganna was here. The architecture? The hunky waiters? An excuse to get out of the damn archives for a change? Why was Ganna here? What was her angle? "Sure, but I'm not drinking it off your--"
"Pex?" The blue beefy gravball center turned around, smiling toplessly. "Yes, ladies, it's me, Pexillades Guilstrom. Autographs are twenty a piece, with all proceeds doing to the event. Racier autographs on the skin," he said, waggling a pen with innuendo, "are fifty."
The Arkanian woman who called his name smirked. "All for a good cause, huh, Pex? I'll pass on the offer, as your assistant. Still, I thought you had a family function tonight?"
Pex just shrugged. "Easier than explaining this," he said with a smirk. "I wasn't lying, though. My sisters selling tickets and my brother is running the music stage. We owe Perl's charity quite a lot, and paying it forward every now and again feels good. Even if most of the women are just here to spend their friend's money to grab some--"
"Highballs!" One man said as he slammed a handful of credits on the table, eyeing his server with a grin. "Three Corellian whiskey highballs, and two blue milks with cola for the table. It's gonna be a blast tonight." Arceptus, the chubby little Gran, was really just here to work the room. He'd little interested in the mostly humanoid dancers, but this party was a who's who of single socialites, and he was one of the best damn tailors in the sector. "Rhodika, that Togruta really does have nice--"
"Absolutely on time," Vorhi said, waving a wrapped finger to the stagehand. "I've got this down pat, Nerves or no. Jsut make sure the tiem signals right to comm-link, because if this goes wrong, I'm basically burning my--"
"BACKSIDE!"
"What?" came the confused reply from the other dancer.
"I said, you're seating tickets on the backside, near the bar in section Aleph-5," the conierge said with a smile, his voice already a littel hoarse. Was every act going to come out to such blaring music? "Don't worry, with screen in place, you'll get an excellent view of the dancer's--"
"Private envoys," the maintenance worker said. "Thank god most of the pilots here are private contractors, almost all the ship owners were half-drunk before they even came to the event. Getting this yacht board was like herding a bunch of horny--"
"Wild witches" said the aged, withered Echani as she bit a piece of candy from a tray that was shaped a bit provocatively. "So many people here, just to make a scene fawning over men. Still, I suppose it's for a good cause, Ralston."
Ralston, her valet, simply shrugged. "I believe they are, as the term is, cutting loose, Madam."
